Afterlife
by NanaMun
Summary: With no reason to go on in this life, can the life after offer more?
1. Death

**Author's Notes: **This story was never meant to exist, but due to a _very_ talented author on **FF**, I was stricken with a sense of...dread after reading an updated chapter and needed to write it out to feel better. I'm talking about...damn there depressed. Talk about transference of energy. I wrote this in about 2 hours, wanting it to be short. If you've seen my one-shots, they're never short. I'm an addict to plot and purpose, so this is my first short, short one-shot.

Oh, and if you notice. No sex.

You know...cause sex means length. And it just wouldn't work in this case for the fic.

**Don't own Characters**

**xXx**

**Afterlife**

I packed boxes.

No one knew.

I moved them out of state.

No one noticed.

My life in Forks, Washington was done.

With a mom six feet under, a father hospitalized in Seattle and the love of my life getting married, there was no reason for me to exist here anymore.

I could have been the Best Man, but it was an invitation I declined. I could have been in the car with my parents, but it was an invitation I declined.

I could stay alive here, go on, but it was an invitation I declined.

On the chilly cloudy morning, I attend the wedding half a mile from that cliff. The same cliff he watched me and the boys dive from years ago when we were young and stupid. The same cliff that injured my knee and broke my arm. He refused to let me anywhere near it, yet here we were, closer to it than we had been in four years.

It was like he knew and was inviting me to take the jump.

The trees blew, their leaves rustling so loud, most of the wedding guests spoke in booming voices. I had been alive here long enough to notice that those were the tell tale signs of a strong storm.

We sat in the cream colored chairs. I was meant to sit in the front, as close to the groom's side as possible. He said he wanted that, but I chose to sit in the back along with the distant relatives and outer circle of friends. There was a string quartet, no doubtly some of his close colleagues from work. The bride's side wasn't as heavily occupied. I could make out the uniform of the town's sheriff- her father and some familiar faces of her friends. I couldn't remember their names. It was hard to anyway. My brain had gone hazy the day he looked at her as if she was his everything.

We had been close as children, so seeing her back in town a handful of years later as a permenant resident was thrilling, but I had already made my peace about who I was then and _who _I wanted. The thrill to see an old friend had soured after he laid eyes on her when she stepped into the school halls. It was as if he couldn't tear his eyes away.

He hadn't.

And here we were 2 years later. Still young, still with a future ahead. But he had made it clear. _She_ was his future.

Just as my mom had been my dad's.

Swallowing the pain and swirling thoughts, I bit my tongue. I'll be here for him, but after today, it wasn't going to be my duty, it would be hers. He'd have to forget about his friend from La Push. That boy he met at the age of 14 when his family moved to Forks. The same family, whom 50 or so years ago had a claim to the town and was well respected by the citizens but not the tribe I came from. Bad blood had run deep. Yet somehow, a friendship was made, against my father's will and I was close friends with the Cullen Boy as the kids on the rez liked to call him. But he'd have to forget that as well. And so would I.

I could imagine what he'd say if he could read my mind.

_"Jacob, you're a fucking drama queen."_ It was almost a trademark quote. What can I say? I always liked my entrances to be a bang, and my exits to be a boom. A ghost of a smile has crept across my face and I take it in with as much effort as I can, because I know it would pass.

I see him then, standing at the alter, the breeze swaying the trees at an odd angle. There's the train of partners walking up. I see the best man, thick and towering in size, lean over to the groom to whisper something in his ear. The groom blushes before letting out a chuckle. His older brother always had a talent of getting a laugh out of him no matter the circumstances. It was better for him to stand behind, have the honor of being what the groom needed.

I'm dramatic, but in no way did I want him to gain a bride and lose a Best Man in the same day.

The music picks up and I see her glide down the aisle. Her bride gown isn't traditional, but I know that had much to do with his sister. She the wedding arrangements under her finger. Everyone needed to be in a certain position, wearing a certain costume, sitting where she wanted. It was hard enough squeezing out of her grip. She wanted to dress me according to the groom. But upon hearing that I turned down the offer for Best Man, I got the critiquing eye. From then on, I knew that my ties with his family were completely through. For 4 years we were close friends and I was accepted into the family. They could read me almost as easily as he could, but with him knee deep in wedding plans, the careful eye was left up to each family member. After the passing of mom, merely weeks before the scheduled wedding, it seemed that they were everwhere, asking how I was doing, calling me when I disappeared for a day. _He_ even took some time off to speak to me.

But I didn't speak.

It was hard. I had lost the best woman in my life and now I was preparing for my funeral - his wedding date - because I was about to lose the best man as well.

Best Man.

The irony.

I look up just in time to see his younger sister, short in stature, but more intimidating than his massive brother. Her eyes are on me and I could just read the terror.

It's like she knows...

The bride is met with the groom and I hear the thundering voice of the man to wed them. His words bleed together, a mumble of a language I'm sure I'd never understand again; love.

I can only make out a few words, those being their names.

"_Edward Cullen and Bella Swan."_ Soon to be Edward and Bella Cullen.

I snort at the idea of _Edward and Jacob Cullen_. Or perhaps, as I wanted it a few years ago, _Edward and Jacob Black._ I always thought it had a nice ring to it. Tears sting my eyes and I don't know if its because I'm sickenly amused or dying inside.

The vows are exchanged.

And the rings.

And the family names are omitted and taken.

As they join, both sides of the audience join as well - one big, whole happy family.

A dead mother and a father in a coma. That's as whole and happy as my family can get.

I miss the kiss, but the ringing music and sobs and praises fill the air, just as the wind blows stronger against the trees. I entertain the thought of perhaps not making it.

I could only be so lucky.

Everyone disperses, gathering to their feet. There is the extravagent tent a few yards over, lavender in color with same colored hanging laterns and seating tables with names painted on paper to indicate where everyone sat. Passing it earlier, I made out that I indeed was seated at the table with him and his family. Or _our_ family as he once stated before.

I guess it was supposed to be the case now more than ever. But it was quite the opposite.

The voices die down, but the music is still loud and deafening. I came as requested, not it is my time to leave. I stand on my feet and glide through the aisle. I see the blur of color before Alice is standing in front of me.

"What is going on with you, Jacob Black?" She looks so angry and terrified at the same time, I can barely make out which lines on her face are reserved for each emotion,  
"You haven't answered any of my calls for _days_. Hell, I didn't think you were coming and now you're here, but sitting in the _back?_" A few months ago, I would have considered us close, not as close as I was to her brother, but she was there when I needed her. And sometimes, when we were alone, I could see it, the look of sympathy and understanding as if she knew what I was going through. As if she knew I was in love with her brother.

What could I say to her now? I had stepped away for this exact reason. I didn't want to see the anger or pain when she found out just where I was going. I didn't want the look in any of their eyes. Not in his dad's, who was so compassionate, or his mother's, who was so warm. The love his family had had for me and still have with each other was too much to bear, especially now that his family was currently Bella Swan as well. She was legally binded, secured with a metal rod to them, wheras I was fastened to them with string. A tie that can be broken with a simple pull.

A simple step away.

I do just that, severing my tie with him and with Alice. And as if she feels it, she steps back, eyes wide.

"Jacob?" She asks.

But I already turn, walking towards the cliff. A ten minute walk to my funeral.

The sounds of the guests, the music, all of it die down. I keep my strides slow and deliberate, prolonging my life if only for a few minutes. My life flashes before my eyes. Lost moments on my mother's lap as she read bedtime stories, flashes of her ebony hair when she cooked dinner or bent over to peck my father's cheek. Edward's bronze hair shimmering in the sun as we baked in the summer's heat at First Beach. His laugh, rising and falling, a comic book face down on his lap, feeling his arm around my shoulder as we sat perched on the roof of his massive house, his hands in mine the day my father broke the news to me that my mom had cancer, the glow in his jade eyes when he confessed at the dinner table that he and Bella were engaged. I kept that last visual of him - that look of blissful happiness. He looked so beautiful even then. I was able to stomach it at that time, but with the days following my mother's funeral, it was like bits of my soul were being chipped away.

My toes touch the edge of the cliff and sure enough, just as I suspect, a storm is coming. The waves are angry, thrashing and slamming against the jagged rocks. I entertain the thought again. I may not make it.

I untie the shoes on my feet, noting that they were purchased by Esme, Edward's mother, the day before my mother's funeral. She had wanted me to look my best.

I undo my tie.

I tug off my socks.

And I stand there, taking in the sprays of water, the foaming mouth of the beast that will swallow me whole, leading me to an afterlife.

"Jake?" And the voice startles me. I turn, catching jade eyes, no longer blissful and happy, but cautious and scared, "What are you doing?"

As I stare, I feel my hair, long and free, whip around my shoulders and neck, like a dead cell noose. He had once joked, calling me Pocahantas, tucking my hair behind my ear, before tugging the ends. He takes my silence as some sort of answer.

"Alice sent me to look for you. She seemed upset," He sounds like a little child, "Are you okay? She stressed that you may..." And he gulps, "Please, Jake, can you step away from there?" I watch his eyes travel down to my feet. He notices my shoes and socks tucked neatly out of my way, before his eyes travels up to meet mine. He is dressed more casually, yet he is still wearing slacks and a dress shirt. It was in Alice's plans to have a nice wedding party right after the ceremony, with no time spent driving to a rented area. The party must have started. It makes me wonder just how long I've been standing out here.

"Jake?" And his voice shakes this time. I know it has to do with his fear of me hurting myself again. The cliff had definitely done its damage the first time. But he had to understand, that now, it was serving a better purpose.

"It's alright." My voice is strong and steady, unlike the maelstorm of my mind.

"I won't feel better until you step away," He holds out a hand, "Please." I consider taking it. I try to imagine a day after this moment, but I can't fathom an image. My time here is truly done. I look away to the ocean and wonder just where I'll wander to.

"Jake, I know it's been hard. I know it hurts, but I'm here." He pleads for my attention, and now I know; for changing my mind. He could read me so easily, "You have me. You have your family here. " And by '_your'_ he meant his. But that's what they were now. Only his.

"We're not family." is my response and I can see how it haunts him.

"We are." He takes a simple step forward. When I don't move, he tries again. He reaches out a hand, grazing his finger along my knuckles, "The love I feel for you makes you my family." he holds my hand in a reassuring grip. The same grip he had when I stayed in the hospital for a few days due to my broken arm, the same grip he had when I couldn't stand straight, thinking of the possibility of losing my mother. It was his comfort, his support. It was all I would get from him, no matter how much he claimed to love me. I wasn't his world as I was my mother's and with her gone, I had no one to dull the ache.

My eyes meets his and I see everything I've lost. A home, a family, a future, "I love you." It was never my intention to say this, but I never planned for him to be here either. He needed to hear this from me. I didn't want him to think otherwise. I loved him, because he was everything to me, but he'll take it as the brotherly love he feels for me.

"I love you," He breaths out in what looks like relief, "More than you'll ever understand." His fingers tug on my hair, stroking up until the feathery touch is on the nape of my neck. True to his words, those jade eyes hold love. It's enough to make me reconsider again.

But I can't.

I turn away again, "You have your family and you have _her_." My tone isn't bitter, only understanding. I feel his fingers freeze against my skin.

"And you have _me_ and your family." He says, understanding this doom. I have not changed my mind. His hand moves again, cupping my cheek, "Jake, please come with me. We'll talk, I'll stay with you however long you need me." But not forever.

And yes, I was selfish even then. My father lay in the hospital, possibly on his way out as well. But I couldn't wait here and find out. And Bella, as loved by Edward, could tarnish his heart and leave him empty. The probability was low, but possible, yet I couldn't wait here and find out. Because the likelihood of everything being remotely as they were could damn near never happen. And whose to say that if it were to, I'd be sane enough to understand after all the waiting I've done. It is selfish, it is pathetic and it was over-dramatic as Edward would state a few years from now, long after I'm gone.

But it really is the only way out.

My hand covers his and I want to weave our fingers together, tell him I've loved him since the day I met him. Perhaps even kiss his soft, pink lips as I had imagined day in and day out. But I pull his hand away from my cheek. I don't like what I see, fear and uncertainty. This is not how I want our last moment to be. This isn't the boom exit I wanted.

I lean in pressing my lips to his, inhaling his essence, his everything for those seconds. I feel the pressure of his hand in my hair, his body relaxing against mine as our lips move together in a dance. My delusion melts so well with reality. _This_ is how I wanted to remember him, even if part of it was my imagination. I pull away, noticing his fluttering eyes and flushed cheeks.

"I'm sorry." I whisper. I hope he'd forgive me for the kiss.

"Jacob." He whispers my name and I _yearn_ for that longing so much, I hear it.

I mouth, "I love you." and without another moment wasted, I jump.

The roar of the wind leaves my ear deaf to any other response he may have had. The peaceful fly ends just as my body hits freezing water. I tumble about, hitting shards of rocks, losing my breath for a moment before my head breaks the surface. Against the rush of waves, I swim parallel to the shore, making so to keep clear from anyone's sight who may observe from the top. Just as I plan, I find the cave nestled right around the bend from the cliff. The swim over is tough and tedious, but I make it, climbing in the tight hole. I shiver against the forceful winds and watch as the sun hides behind the ocean. I'm not sure if its my imagination or the wind carrying his voice. The pleading and screaming of the love of my life. My heart aches in my chest, but I know that through given time, his family and wife will be there and I'll be but a blurred face in his memory. He still had them.

Night settles in and my body's violent shakes are now slight tremors. I'm surprised by the small orbs of light, bouncing against the trees in the distance. Being careful, I slip into the rough waters, keeping my body close to the jutting rocks leading to land. I turn to look up at the massive rock that leads back to the cliff. My life was once there.

Soft grains of wet sand slip between my toes as I march the short distance to my bike hidden between the forest trees. I look over my shoulder to catch another orb of light on the water. From what I could make out, a small boat, rocking against the waves. Voices carry over to me, but I can't hear what they say. the orb of light flashes along the water frantically. I bite back a wave of guilt, knowing those orbs of light are for me. And may as well _be _me. Flashes of my ghost along the water, because no matter what, I have moved on to my afterlife. After Edward Cullen, after Sarah and Bill Black, after La Push.

My shirt, heavy on my torso is stripped off, just as I make it to the clearing where my bike awaits. I climb on, thinking of the empty space they'll find when coming upon my small apartment on the edge of the town. I'd saved them the same trouble I had, cleaning out my mother's things, packing away the life that she left behind.

My boxes were now safely in the empty space of a new apartment, out of the state. I start the engine, kicking off into the wide path leading to the main road out of La Push.

I've never meant for him to catch me there. I never intended that to be our goodbye. I just wanted to be here and then be gone. Taste the rough wind against my cheek again, grasp _why_ I never went back and let go of that tie to him. I wanted that cliff to be the beginning and end of Jacob Black as I knew him. And although, I hadn't planned on it, wasn't it perfect that the end of Jacob Black be _exactly_ as it were when his life began - with Edward Cullen?

**xXx**

**AN: If there is any confusion, let me know. I'm curious as to how readers will take this, since its different from anything else I've written. If it isn't a load of crap, I'll actually consider writing a few more one-shots like this. But hopefully not as depressing. Tell me what you think!**


	2. Ghost

**Author's Notes: **Like I promised, a second follow-up to the original one-shot. This time from Edward's perspective. I found finishing this more fitting for my mood, so it's completed sooner than I expected.

**xXx**

**Afterlife: Ghost**

**Edward**

On the night of my wedding, I lost the most important man of my life.

I stared at the storm turned waters, right where I knew his body sunk.

I screamed.

I wailed.

I cried.

Those brown eyes. I remember those brown eyes. They stared at me, saying no much more than his lips.

"I love you."

"I love you too." But it was too late.

He jumped - and my world went with him.

I didn't understand this. He always let me in; always. Why hadn't it been this time around? Had I been that absent?

The wedding!

Was it that that eventually broke him? Had I left my best friend in his past - where he had a mother and father - as I stepped into the future? Was I the last thing to leave him?

I ran the length of the cliff, stumbling and tripping my way down the way to the beach about a hundred feet below. I ran the shores, taking in the foaming water, the angry tides. What if he didn't make it?

I lost track of time. There was a lot of sobbing, my body wracking with pants and grievance. My father found me first. I was able to make out what happened and I crumbled feeling him steel himself next to me.

The search after carried on for hours during the wedding, eventually bleeding into the dawn of the next day...and soon, a month.

There was no honeymoon.

Bella's arms had been what I fell asleep in at night, but I didn't feel the warmth like I used to.

Jacob.

My sunshine, with a smile that could brighten the gloomiest weathers of Seattle. He was broken that night of the accident. I rememebered the moment the light left his eyes forever. I had held him for hours, saying no words, because there were none meant for this moment.

The weeks following had been rough. Bella hesitantly continued planning for the wedding with the persistance of my sister.

"This is what we need." My sister explained, "Now is the perfect time to build our family."

When I could, I kept my best friend company, even if it was a moment in silence. Nothing changed with Jacob. And when the time came to make him my Best-Man, he looked at me, the light completely gone, two dark black holes pointed my way before he flatly declined.

I couldn't comprehend just what that did to me. I sat up in my bed the next few nights, my heart panging and breaking at just what my best friend had to endure. How many years had it been with me keeping him out of physical danger, preventing harm to him? How could I be so stupid not to realize that it just may be his heart that took some damage.

If I could take away the pain...

A month turned into 6. Bella's eyes were tired and her efforts were gone. She stared at me from across the table, both of our meals untouched.

"You need to eat." She pleaded. How much weight had I lost since he left? I stared at my food - rice, porkchops and broccolli.

It would satiate no hunger I had.

"I had a late lunch." It was a weak excuse and she knew it.

Her palms met the table angerily and she stood on her feet. Her eyes, brown like Jacob's, but nowhere as captivating - not anymore - met mine, "Are you going to wither away and _die_?" She accused, "For God sakes Edward, I know how much he meant to you, but you have a life to live. You have a family and a _wife_! Or have you forgotten?" Her eyes narrowed.

When was the last time I touched her?

Sometime before the wedding?

I spoke no words, but watched as she lifted her plate at my silence and aimed it at the wall of the kitchen feet away.

6 months became a year.

As a new divorcee, I had to familiarize myself in the smaller space in my apartment, without the company of another. Bella had grown silent over our last months together. It had been much like living alone. She would disappear in the evening, just to stroll in just as I was preparing for work. I noticed, but there was nothing left in me to care.

It was enough for her to eventually leave.

Life was almost like a silent movie. No one said much to me, if ever the television was on, it was on mute and my mind echoed a small, buzzing hum if any noise was to arise. The only time my vocal chords were exercised were when working or visiting Mr. Black every Friday.

He had not awoken, but the conversations still felt real.

We talked of our past mostly - days where we were younger, trying to keep Jacob out of trouble, about fishing and camping trips with each family. Mr. Black hadn't liked me at first, but over time, I became the _exception_ to the Cullen Rule. I would have never said he really enjoyed having me around, much of it was tolerance, but I respected him for giving his son what he wanted - and giving me what I needed.

Our conversations were always light and funny. Each time, I'd make an excuse about Jacob. He was busy working on his motorcycle, or he just met a decent girl, seeing how that was always Mr. Black's main concern about his son; he never dated. I kept up the excuses, since I didn't have it in me to speak the truth, or believe in it as much as I should have. In that silent room between me and BIlly Black, Jacob was alive and well, just busy. He always sent his love to his dad, and with much regret sent me instead to keep him company. I told him this each time.

I occasionally came across Sam Uley, Mr. Black's nephew, once every few months. He'd give me the nod of acknowledgment, but his eyes held a respect I had never seen directed at me before. They knew it was because of me that Mr. Black was able to stay alive. It cost money to keep him in that small room where they fed and kept him. He had no insurence - neither did Jacob for that matter.

I had only spoke to Sam once and it was during Jacob's service; a farewell of sorts at La Push beach. Sam, in his grace and stoic manner, stood at my side, eyes steady on the ocean. He cleared his throat to get my attention. Bella, at my side then, sniffled and looked up, as did I.

"It was never my place to tell you, Edward, but the love he had for you...it rivals the feelings I have for my wife. It was hard imagining him without you...and likewise. You two were well connected, complimentary to each other and although it grated everyone's nerves in the tribe, they were happy because he was happy," His eyes shone as if behind a shimmering glass, "Thank you for taking care of him." His voice caught in his throat.

I hadn't taken care of him. I didn't save him, but he was right about Jacob and I. We indeed complimented the other. So much in fact, it felt as if a connection, deeper than that between me and my wife, was created.

I could read his mind.

I was sure of it.

Every emotion, every inane pondering.

Until one day I feared I couldn't. Somewhere during the time Bella and I were engaged, Jacob became withdrawn. His body language different, his eyes distant.

And suddenly after losing his mother, there was nothing left.

I was _sure_ I couldn't read him.

But looking back, I knew why I believed such a lie. That bond, that connection between us, was more than I was willing to admit to. I saw it in his eyes every time our gazes met and I'd look away, unable to stomach what might transpire if I kept our eyes locked.

It was guilt that ate at me, haunted me. I was all he had left and I denied his existance, his meaning in my life.

His mother dead, his dad in a coma and his best friend dilusional.

I killed my best friend.

And his father would soon followed.

I awoke to the shrill ring of the phone that early morning. I was astonished that Sam considered to call when he didn't have to.

"Edward," His voice was rough and raw from stress, "We're pulling the plug." If there was any life left in me, it sparked and ignited. I couldn't let him do it. I couldn't let him cut away the only remaining thread to Jacob. I couldn't live without it. Talking to Billy had been the highlight of my weeks, it was my dilusion everlasting - Jacob was still with me when I was in that room.

I fought.

It was no use, but I fought with everything left in me.

It was a grueling 6 weeks battle. had it not been for the 'lie' which I believed with everything I had that Jacob willed him to stay alive. His only son wanted him awake and I was willing to pay for everything. Sam, although agitated and furious, seemed to have no animosity towards me. The battle went public in the local area and on some out of state articles. The story of undocumented wills and words carried back and forth. Sam, the only family left knew the likelihood of Billy waking up was thin, yet there was hesitation when I spoke of Jacob and what he wanted. Ultimately the choice was Sam's. I had no right. I wasn't family, I held no will of Billy's or his son. I had nothing, yet the dispute raged on.

I became a slave to my _own _will. I spoke to no curious reporters, I ignored the support and I'm sure the heart felt e-mails from attentive readers of articles that were dug through online to find out the story.

My purpose was to keep Billy alive.

I visited every day after work. Left the office and drove the 15 minutes to the hospital garage where I almost always ended my nights. My father often visited the ward, keeping our conversations short and pleasant, but always sharing a look of concern, one I just wouldn't put at ease.

I slept very little. It might have been that that led me to see the ghost. The monotonous tone of the machine beeping was my lullaby every night. I was immune to visiting hours, something I'm sure had to do with my father, so by 3AM, I was waking to the sounds of a voice I remembered, yearned to hear since my wedding night.

"Edward..." The name came from pain and desire. It broke the steady beeping lullaby and I was up, awake, eyes blurred and intent on deciphering the shadow in front of me.

And suddenly it was gone.

And there was my second reason to keep Billy alive.

The ghost was sometimes a shadow, a faint breath on my neck, a scent of earth and musk. It was everything Jacob. I felt it. His _being_ was there when I slept, a comforting blanket on my frenzied struggle to live on. Even in his death, he always found his way to me.

My heart swelled when I entered the dim hospital room each night and it fell the mornings I would leave to head back home to shower and change. Soon I was bringing luggages to the room, not paying any mind to the curious eyes that watched. I was addicted to the ghost, the presence that surrounded his father's comotose form.

Nights passed, touches on my cheek, a sigh at my side. I awoke each morning with smiles, unable to compress. My ignited desire to fight, suddenly became a comfort for living life better than I had the last year. My interaction with people increased, from the nurses on the floor that knew me a little too well, to my family who seemed more than relieved to see me talk. I was nowhere near how I was with Jacob in my life, but just having that knowledge that he was watching gave me...hope. For what, I wasn't sure.

My visits became every other day. I began sleeping at home and focusing more of my attention on keeping contacts with what was left of the Black family. Sam and I exchanged thoughts and concerns and finally, I was able to tell him of...everything. The guilt, the love, the need. I didn't speak of the ghost, never the ghost.

With a pained look and a shaky sigh, Sam agreed to keep Billy going.

The six weeks of fighting, became 2 months of peace. After a long weekend without visiting Billy, I took the typical route, down the maze of halls, into the elevator, pass the nurses and towards numbered room. I started at the sight of ebony hair, darting around a corner. I stood in the middle of the space, blinking at the area. Had I seen the ghost? Had I finally got a glimpse? I chased it around the corner and nearly crumbled at the sight of the strong back, long flowing hair, tied in a loose ponytail. It was him. God, it was him. And once again, he turned a corner. I followed, still many paces behind, but when I careened around the wall, there was nothing but the floor's lobby filled with moving bodies. He was gone.

My heart hammered in my chest.

What was he trying to tell me? My eyes traced the lobby, noting the two doors leading out towards the west wing and elevators. The one on the farthest left closed as if someone had just left. Above it was the letters in bold. **Exit.**

I wasn't sure why, but the alarms went off. My body shook and I turned and bolted back to Billy's room. When I arrived, throwing open the door, I was greeted with the empty, cold bed, rid of Billy, rid of life.

I was in a manic panic, running back to the lobby and addressing the nurses.

"Where is he?" I fired out. Sure they knew. They knew me. They knew why I was here, they knew the story, so they knew where he was.

"E-Edward." one of the nurses stuttered, looking alarmed, "I thought you were notified..."

"What?" I fisted the counter, " We said...He can't be..." I wasn't sure what I could say. He wasn't there, he was gone.

"Billy Black's son came. He signed all the papers. They turned the machines off this morning." She mumbled.

"That's impossible!" I wailed, "Jacob - Sam and I agreed that we wouldn't..." I tugged at the roots of my hair, trying to root myself to the earth. I suddenly felt like I had spun upside down, or in fact, my world had.

"It wasn't Sam." She shook her head, "His son, well, he was taller, long, black hair and-"

She didn't have to finish.

My legs took me, right where I saw the sign. I followed, blindly searching, bypassing the elevators and shooting down the stairs, hoping like hell that I' see just a glimpse of what couldn't be true. She saw a ghost. We both did. There was no way he could be alive after all this time.

_But there was no body._

But if that were the case, wouldn't he have come back?

But why would he when I...?

I ran harder, pushing pass nurses, doctors, diving around chair bound patients. The automatic sliding doors couldn't open fully in time. I turned my body, going through in a profile position before righting myself and running out into the parking lot in front of the Emergency entrance of the wing.

The sun was menacingly bright, blinding my vision momentarily. I dived out, exposing myself to moving cars, glancing here and there, hoping to spot what I had seen not minutes earlier.

"JACOB!" The wail was much like my cry a year ago. I was at the cliff, losing him again.

I couldn't. I just couldn't. One time was one too many.

There were passing shadows, moving bodies in the distance, but no sign of him. Cars, so many of them.

"Jake!" The choked sob then, "Please."

_I can't go on._

The blaring sun beat down, free from clouds and harsh patter of rain. On such a day, a ghost from my past becomes real?

Or was I insane?

"Edward!" My eyes clenched shut. How I missed that voice. Have I died?

I heard the revving engine, the honk, yet I couldn't move. Yes, I was dead. My body fell into air, floating, hovering. Hell, I wasn't sure which. I felt the warmness around my hip, gripping me, a hard warmth pressed against me.

It was when my side met the concrete, that I was thrown from my haze.

I was back on earth.

"Edward," The sun's glare was blocked by a shadow I had memorized over the last few months. The shadow I saw at night. Somehow my ghost came for me, "Are you okay?"

From my position, I could reach up. I gasped, when my fingers pressed against the shadow. His cheek, oh God I was touching his cheek, "Jake." My face tickled with the tears, trails reaching to the lobes of my ears.

"You weren't supposed to see me." He whispered.

"You're alive..." I stroked the heat of his flesh, "You came back." He mimicked my actions and another gasp left me. The distant ache in my side dulled at his touch. Even in the sun's rays, the hard concrete of the parking lot felt like a piece of heaven.

I could make out those brown eyes and the full lips that curved into a sad smile, "I did." he spoke, "But not for long."

My heart raced in my chest and suddenly the real world felt overwhelming, "Don't leave me."

"Edward, please understand-"

'I need you-"

"I can't stay-"

"I can't live-"

I felt his nose against my throat, "God, don't say that."

Was this hell? Was it heaven? I couldn't be sure. As long as I had him, it didn't matter where we were.

"I'm sorry, Jake." I pleaded for him to stay, "I'm so sorry."

He didn't reply, but I felt his fingers on my skin again, his lips puckering against my collar bone.

"Let me die. Let me be with you."

"You are." He whispered.

**xXx**

**AN: Did I confuse you? Was this what you wanted or expected? Hell, was it even good? Let me know. I'm a bit curious how readers would find this.  
**


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